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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047803">and if you have nightmares, we'll dance in the bedroom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebreadsticksandRUN/pseuds/takethebreadsticksandRUN'>takethebreadsticksandRUN</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddles, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jonny and Alex the world rests in your hands, M/M, Sleepless nights, This made me really happy to write, basically canon compliant, brief mention of the Archives gang, he needs a therapist, jon is in the mechanisms babey, jon is the avatar of the Eye, learning more information about eachother, martin loves him very very much, mention of bullying, post episode 160, so we love the idiot too for martin's sake, we are all very afraid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:41:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebreadsticksandRUN/pseuds/takethebreadsticksandRUN</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon hadn’t slept for days. He couldn’t sleep, what with the noises of the world outside. Constant terror and fear that was not his own threatened to spill into his mind, immense pressure almost driving Jon to the edge. </p><p>or</p><p>Jon really needs to talk through his feelings not bottle them up. That is unhealthy Jon we need you alive and well, and so does Martin.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and if you have nightmares, we'll dance in the bedroom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey guys! i worked really hard on this, please be nice. comments and kudos fuel me the way statements fuel jon... let me know what you thought! hope you enjoy reading it. title is from my very favorite song "Guillotine" by Jon (haha coincidence, i think nOT) Bellion<br/>xxx</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>          Jon hadn’t slept for days. He couldn’t sleep, what with the noises of the world outside. Constant terror and fear that was not his own threatened to spill into his mind, immense pressure almost driving Jon to the edge. He wasn’t sure he still could sleep. Unsure how much humanity was left in him. He sighed, sitting against the headboard of Daisy’s old bed. Martin snored softly next to him. It amazed Jon how he could still sleep at a time like this.</p><p>          Actually, a lot about Martin amazed him. His ability to sleep through the wails of the very planet was certainly on the list, but Jon wondered how such a person could manage to not only sleep but look so, <em>beautiful.</em> There was no other word for it. Martin was beautiful. Moonlight crisscrossed the dark room, highlighting the curls haloing his peaceful face.</p><p>          Jon smiled slightly, scooting closer to the crescent of Martin’s body. He gently took his hand, protectively scanning the room. Nothing was going to hurt him, not on Jon’s watch. The simple warmth of another human being helped keep the knowledge at bay, helping keep him grounded.</p><p>          It wasn’t enough. The fear pressed against every crack in Jon’s mind, dripping through holes left by other Avatars. Before , he could control his Sight with relative ease. Now, nothing was easy anymore. No longer could he simply will himself not to Know. Even now as he sat, focusing in the dark, scenes of terror flashed through his mind.</p><p>          A loved one coming home who <em>was not the real person</em>.</p><p>          Dancing a jerky, horror filled jig as those around collapsed from exhaustion, bleeding.</p><p>          The very walls of their home being filled with the essence of corruption.</p><p>          Martin opened one eye sleepily as Jon breathed in sharply, attempting to cut off the flow of fear. “S’matter?” he mumbled, squeezing his hand.</p><p>          Jon struggled to breathe evenly, not wanting to spill his own terror onto poor, lovely Martin, who had been through so much already. No, he wanted to bear this alone, no matter how much it hurt.</p><p>          He sat up in bed, slightly more awake now, “Jon, talk to me. You know you can tell me <em>anything</em>.” He wrapped Jon into a hug, concerned.       </p><p>          “Not,” he whispered, “Not this. It hurts, Martin.” he nestled closer to Martin’s heartbeat, soothing and steady.</p><p>          “I’m sorry you’re hurting. It hurts to see you like this,” he stroked Jon’s hair with one hand, “I just wish I could do something, <em>anything</em>.” Jon hummed softly, trying to stay grounded in the moment.</p><p>          They sat through the night together, Martin talking low, soothing nonsense, Jon fighting to stay with the love of his life.</p><p>          Days and nights blurred together in a haze of fear and guilt and Martin. Nights, tossing and turning. Days shifted from moment to moment. Panic attacks in the bathroom turned to being held by Martin turned to listening to the tape turned to cuddling. Still distrustful of comfort but so achingly <em>in love</em>.</p><p>          The paradoxes pounded against Jon’s skull, framing the fear with confusion.</p><p>          He still didn’t sleep. By now he knew (lowercase and uppercase Knew) sleeping was beyond him. So he sat, a guard dog, as Martin slept fitfully. Jon dreaded the nights. That was when the fear hit. When the will to Know pressed on him, making him feel small in a way that was different from the smallness he felt in Martin’s arms.</p><p>          This small was malicious. Deliberately forcing him to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, the burden of his mistakes.</p><p>          It was a new level of pain.</p><p>          So he couldn’t help but shudder and gasp as the Eye tried to force its way into his mind. Jon hadn’t Known anything for a long, long time, surely the Ceaseless Watcher was getting bored of the radio silence Jon was fighting for.</p><p>          “Ah,” Jon gasped, pressing a hand to his head, the other stroking Martin’s back, “Oh no, this isn’t-“ The dam in his mind broke, spilling every horror Jon had been avoiding.</p><p>          He woke with a start, Jon collapsed across the bed. “Oh no, what happened?” he whimpered, more to himself than anything. Carefully, Martin scooped him into his arms, lifting one of Jon’s eyelids.</p><p>          Martin didn’t know what to expect. Probably just the whites of Jon’s eyes, that’s what happens when people pass out, right? He did not expect to see a glowing eye staring back, crisscrossed with neon green veins.</p><p>          “Ah, shit, what-“ he dropped his hand. Jon opened his eyes suddenly, still glowing the green of chemical sludge in cartoons.</p><p>          “<em>There is a place, deep in the heart of fear, where you trap yourself and claim that it is safety. The screams may linger on the distant breeze, the Eye may wander beyond the curtained windows, but you, and the one you love, are, it seems, safe…</em>”</p><p>          “Oh, love, what have they done to you?” Martin pulled him close once again, cradling him against his chest. Jon continued to speak, monotone, rambling about fear and comfort and safety and their cabin, releasing a flood of information.</p><p>          Martin continued to rock back and forth, still holding him, until the words petered out into a weary silence. The eyes closed (Martin refuses to believe they are his) and Jon breathed in deeply, ragged and raw.</p><p>          Martin is unaware of when the tears started, but they drip off his nose into Jon’s hair. “Why did they have to hurt you?” he whispered, “It should have been me…” Even as he said this, he knew it was useless. There is no way he could’ve changed anything. No way to have eased the burden.</p><p>          “No,” Jon, the normal, broken, blue-eyed man, reached up and brushed a tear off Martin’s cheek, “It’s my fault. All of this-“ he tried to interrupt, but Jon talked over him, “No, it’s my fault Sasha was stolen,” His voice was hollow, damaged.</p><p>          “Without me, Tim would still be alive. Melanie would still be able to <em>see for heaven’s sake</em>,” he covered his face with his hands, “My fault Daisy was Buried, then taken by the Hunt. I let Peter bring you to the Lonely,” Jon’s voice hardened, but he stayed curled in Martin’s lap, ”I didn’t notice you were…</p><p>          “I ruined the world. I,” he took a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face, forcing the words out through unwilling lips, “I deserve this. I just wish it didn’t <em>hurt</em> so much.”</p><p>          Martin pressed his lips to his forehead, gentle, “None of this is your fault. Elias,” he called him something that made Jon laugh, albeit a small laugh, “Used you. I was just scared. I woke up and then you were talking, Jon, something about the house? I thought the Eye stole you, somehow.” He wrapped an arm around Martin’s waist, pulling him in tighter.</p><p>          “I am sorry you had to see that. I think It was getting bored, just watching us,” Jon mused shakily, “And I haven’t Known anything for a very long time now. Eventually it had to happen,” he sighed unsteadily.</p><p>          Martin kissed the top of his head, still silent.</p><p>          “Jon, are you <em>sure</em> there isn’t anything I can do to help?” He shook his head, but Martin’s eyes lit up, “<em>Wait</em>. You said this happened because you hadn’t used your, you know, <em>spooky archivist magic</em> for a while?”</p><p>          “Y e s…?”</p><p>          “What if you used it to Know nice things, like answers to questions or something?”</p><p>          “In theory that would work. The trouble is when I try to See without being prompted, I can’t choose what I See and what I don’t,” his voice shook from fear.</p><p>          “I can ask  you questions, maybe about my life? Jon, you can’t possibly guess the answer. You’ll have to use the Eye to answer. Would that make this,” Martin gestured vaguely at Jon, “Go away?” Jon sat up, considering.</p><p>          “I don’t know, Martin, but it’s worth a shot. Please be careful, I can’t really avoid answering questions anymore. Be prepared for the answer.”</p><p>          “Don’t worry, I got this,” Martin tried to wink at him, failing miserably. Jon smiled fondly, grateful. “Okay, let’s start off with something simple. Who was my favorite teacher in high school?”</p><p>          He answered without hesitation, “Mr. Taylor, fourth period English.”</p><p>          “Why was he my favorite?”</p><p>          “He let you eat in his classroom. You didn’t want to go to the cafeteria, people made fun of your weight. But Mr. Taylor let you eat in the classroom, and he was the one who helped you start writing poetry. He made you feel safe,” Jon paused, his voice breaking a little bit, “Ooh, those <em>bastards</em>. They were so awful to you,” He turned to Martin, tears in his eyes, “Baby, you’re beautiful. Don’t ever doubt me on that.”</p><p>          He smiled, intertwining their hands, “It’s okay, that was years ago,” Martin blushed a little bit, hidden by the darkness, “Thank you. Next question, what was my favorite thing to do in the summer?”</p><p>          “Ooh,” he sighed, switching gears rapidly, “You would wake up early, eat, go for a walk on the beach, then hang out with a book or notebook at the library or café. Like every day. Is that really all you did that summer?” Jon sounded incredulous. The fear was easier to bury now.</p><p>          “I mean, when you live near one of the best beaches in Britain, why not? I mean I didn’t have many friends either, so…” Martin seemed to be enjoying this, a smile evident even in the dark room, “Is this helping, Jon?”</p><p>          “Yes,” he said quietly, “It is. Deliberately Knowing something releases some of the pressure. Thank you, love. Can we keep going? I mean,” Jon broke off, slightly awkward, “If it gets too personal, I can stop…”</p><p>          “It’s fine,” Martin reassured him, “I love you. I trust you. Should I ask another?” Jon nodded. “What’s my favorite memory?”</p><p>          “In uni you went to a concert for your favorite band,” he broke off, laughing.</p><p>          “What?” Martin sounded defensive.</p><p>          “It’s nothing, just… anyways you went to a Mechanisms concert with a friend. You got to meet the band afterwards, just for a minute. It was enough for you to get the lead singer’s autograph, however. You had so much fun that night,” he switched from Knowing to normal conversation, “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Jon said softly, mostly to himself.</p><p>          “What do you mean?”</p><p>          “Never mind, it’s unimportant now.” Martin sighed exasperatedly but didn’t press.</p><p>          “Fine. Another question then. What did I think of you my first day at the Archives?” he sounded hesitant, reassured however when Jon chuckled.</p><p>          “You were happy meeting Tim and Sasha, but when I introduced myself, you, er, had what Tim would call <em>a gayness realization</em>.”</p><p>          “A-“ he floundered, “A <em>what</em>?”</p><p>          “You know, when the only thought going through your mind is <em>HOLY SHIT I’M SO GAY HOLY SHIT I’M SO GAY</em> over and over?”</p><p>          “That is not exactly how I would put it,” Martin said delicately, squeezing Jon’s hand, “But yes, pretty close. What else?”</p><p>          “You also thought I was a prick. Well, in your defense, I was a prick. Still am,” he said frankly.</p><p>          “You’re <em>my</em> prick.” Martin ruffled his hair fondly, “Tired yet?”</p><p>          Jon leaned into the touch, “Not yet.”</p><p>          “Alright. Try this one on for size, how much do I love you?”</p><p>          “Oh- Martin for the <em>love of-</em> fine. I will try to Know the depths of your feelings for me,” Jon closed his eyes, trying to put his feet in Martin’s shoes. He reeled as waves of pure, unadulterated love crashed on the shores of his mind.</p><p>          He saw himself smile at Martin before kissing him, watched as he and Martin snuggled together during that <em>boring </em>documentary Daisy had left, viewed himself in Martin’s eyes.</p><p>          Tears flowed down his cheeks as Jon struggled to comprehend the feelings. “Oh, dear…” he turned to Martin, wide-eyed, “I love you. So much. I didn’t- nobody has ever-“ Jon broke off, frustrated at the lack of words. Instead he pulled Martin to him, kissing him hard on the mouth.</p><p>          Martin melted into him, molding their bodies together. He pulled away slightly, smiling at the huff from Jon as he leaned forward, surprised, “I love you too. Try and remember how much I care about you, Jon.” Martin kissed the tip of his nose.</p><p>          “I don’t think I can forget. That was the second most powerful thing I’ve ever felt…”</p><p>          “Second? To what, baby? To how much you love my tea?” Martin teased.</p><p>          “Second to how much I love you,” Jon leaned forward, closing the slight gap with his lips, hands clasped at Martin’s neck.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>we've never had a description of jon's eyes right? if we have and my portrayal of him as blue-eyed is non-canon compliant, please let me know<br/>again thanks for reading hope it made you smile</p></blockquote></div></div>
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